


Compared To Your Eyes Nothing Shines Quite As Bright

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall only remembers what he wants to remember</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compared To Your Eyes Nothing Shines Quite As Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst writing this I discovered I really like Nouis. Hmm.
> 
> I also apologise in advance.
> 
> (Title taken from Mayday Parade's Miserable At Best)

Niall doesn't remember much.

But he definitely remembers those eyes. Those eyes when they were sad, when they were happy. Those eyes in the winter, and in the summer. Each emotion, season, situation altering them slightly, but still staying that same breathtaking shade of blue. He remembers one particular summer day, not for the weather or for the ridiculous amount of ice cream he'd consumed; but for those eyes. They lit up at the sight of the sunshine, small creases folding beside them because of the sheer size of the smile. The way the sun hit their face, lightening the short eyelashes and changing that ocean shade of blue. The blue that day was a light blue. A happy blue, the colour of cloudless skies and the deep end of a California backyard pool. It was a beautiful blue that seemed to light up Niall's entire world.

Niall remembers those eyes one other particular day. It was raining that day, and those eyes seemed to fit in with that rain. They were sad, so sad to the point they were almost drooping. The blue was still there, as evident as ever, but it was a dull blue. A boring blue. They were almost grey, and as the tears spilled loosely over the lid wetting those delicate bottom eyelashes, Niall noticed a subtle change. No longer would those eyes be cloudless skies and bottomless pools. No, they were now clouded and Niall could see the bottom of that pool. It was shallow, and Niall didn't like that at all.

____________________

 

Niall doesn't remember much.

But he does remember that mouth. That mouth and the words it spoke, slurred, sallied. He remembers the way that mouth moved when it was talking, running words at a hundred miles a minute. He remembers that mouth when it was sleeping, soft pink lips parted, only letting out the deep, slow intakes and outtakes of breath (not forgetting an occasional snort that may or may not still make Niall giggle). He remembers the soft, gentle kiss from that mouth, trailing from his earlobe to his naval. And of course he remembers the opposite, hot, angry and wet kisses being forced from that mouth onto his. He also remembers that mouth at the most inappropriate of times, when it was idly sucking at his lower region. He remembers the words that accidentally tumbled from that mouth one specific morning. A lazy hand stroking up his chest whilst the other was wound around his waist. A simple "I love you" was whispered into the silence, followed by a hand slapping over that same mouth. Niall remembers how he just smiled and mumbled an "I love you too" against that mouth, before licking his way into it.

There was something else Niall remembers about that mouth. It was lopsided one day, strained into a tight line that looked somewhat painful. Niall remembers how he didn't ask what was wrong, because he knew he would be told soon enough. Niall could probably never prepare for the words that fell from that mouth and hung in the air like dull cigarette smoke, but sometimes you just have to.

____________________ 

 

Niall doesn't remember much.

But he does remember that personality. It was the first thing he noticed when they met. He didn't really like it much at first, it was too overwhelming, too in-your-face. But he learned to love it. He learned to love the fact that he would be awoken with the loud clashing of pots and pans and yelling over that noise. He learned to love the topless dancing that came with almost every chore. It got to a point where Niall could guarantee that if the bathroom was being cleaned, the dishwasher being filled, the apartment vacuumed, there would be a lack of t-shirt to go with it. But hell, Niall didn't mind. But Niall did mind that personality sometimes. He'd be tired and just want to collapse against the soft comfort that his bed offered, but no. He'd have to deal with a loud, excited personality that soon Niall decided was the same as a puppy's. It got annoying, having to deal with someone that laughed louder than him, drank more than him, was more annoying than him, but if that personality ever acted as anything less, it would have been wrong. 

Which is why when Niall remembers that personality on one particular day, his whole world stopped. He noticed it just by the knock on the apartment door. The usual three quick raps followed by the drum pattern to whatever song was running through that head was replaced with a single quiet knock. The way they walked was different too. That familiar bounce in their step had disappeared, and now took the form of a slow, slumped shuffle. It even hurt to look at. Niall was dying to know what was wrong, but he held his breath. Instead he stared into those shallow swimming pools, flitted his gaze across the tight-lipped line, took in that slumped, hunch-back posture and waited. 

"Niall, I've got cancer."

____________________

 

Niall doesn't remember much.

But that's only because he doesn't want to remember. He doesn't want to remember those daily trips to the hospital that ensured he was going to fail University but offered a small amount of comfort to the body bound to those scratchy hospital bed sheets. He doesn't want to remember that one time he turned up a little later than usual. That one time where he had brought along all of their favourite things in a large duffel bag, just to bring a little sunshine to their day. (Although he had been told that it was in fact him that was their sunshine.) Because that one time he never got to see them again. "I'm sorry," the doctor said solemnly. "They're gone."

_

Niall doesn't want to remember the 16th April. It was warm, almost sunny. The fresh grass blowing gently in the breeze, looking somewhat like an ocean. 'What a stupid time for a funeral,' Niall thinks bitterly, kicking the head off a tulip beside him. He's outside the church, playing with his tie, thinking about how this was their favourite time of year. He's getting irritated. His black suit is attracting all the light it can absorb making Niall uncomfortably hot and soon he's going to start sweating. The hearse isn't here yet, the flowers are the wrong colour and there's a bird in a nearby tree that just won't stop squarking. Niall would give anything to go back to a few months ago, just to be safe inside those arms again. But he can't. Of course he can't. 

Despite the beginning of spring happening outside the church, the atmosphere inside is much more morbid. Niall is drained of all emotion just from entering the building, he already feels exhausted. But he sits through the "they were so wonderful" speeches and puts up with everyone crying on his shoulder, just because he has to. They would want him to. It wasn't a nice day and Niall doesn't remember it often, but it's okay when he does because Niall doesn't remember much, but he does remember Louis Tomlinson.


End file.
